


Not Above Love

by AllJokesAside



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Betrayal, Break Up, Cheating, Depression, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Getting Together, Homophobia, Jealousy, Jearmin - Freeform, M/M, Misunderstandings, Multiple Pairings, Multiple Partners, Romance, Yaoi, sort of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-12
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-10-31 03:44:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10890999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllJokesAside/pseuds/AllJokesAside
Summary: University AU. Jean Kirstein and Eren Jaeger are roommates, so it's no surprise that Jean finds himself in the middle of Eren's mess. When that mess presents itself to be a cute, bookish little blonde with a taste for coffee, Jean wonders if this isn't so much a mess but more a gift that's fallen into his unprepared lap. In the end, this may not be a welcome idea to all. And of course, friendships are at stake. Jearmin. Angst!Eremin.





	1. Chapter 1

Jean doesn’t make a lot of bad decisions. 

When things fly his way and try to knock him down, he ruminates. He dwells, momentarily, on everything that could go wrong. Soon enough, however, he uses his common-sense to figure what will work best for him and chooses the option with the best outcome. 

People could call Jean brash, rude, or even temperamental, occasionally, but dumb was not something he ever considered himself to be. He could be emotional, but he rarely let that get in the way of what he should do or what he felt was right to do. If he got physical with anyone, he damn well believed in whatever he was defending. He never wasted his breath over things that were petty outside of teasing with his mates.

Surely, Jean was a rational guy. For the most part, anyway. Few things got under his skin in the way that one Eren Jaeger did. Eren, shorter, and over-all inferior to Jean, was his bastard of a roommate. To Jean, at first, he was the most irritating green-eyed little twerp that had ever festered on the planet. Jean didn’t know what he’d done in his past life to deserve the torment that was being assigned a roommate like him. 

He was loud, rough and abrasive to Jean’s laid-back, contemplative and mostly contained persona. Eren was moody and obnoxious. He didn’t think before he spoke. Jean liked to think they were nothing alike. 

Somewhere along the line, they grew to tolerate each other. Their attempts at requesting a switch of rooms had gone unanswered for the most part and after a semester or so, they made do. Besides the occasional jibe and taunt, they moved about without getting in each other’s way. They could live together. Respect each other, even.  
This didn’t mean Jean couldn’t still appreciate an empty dorm room whenever he had the chance. They weren’t constantly at each other’s throats anymore but Jean loved having Eren out of the room when he could for peace of mind. Sometimes he invited over Marco and they played video games or talked shit. Other times, like today, Jean liked to bask in his solitude. He turned up his music and broke out his sketch pad. 

His classes were over for the day whereas Eren’s had just begun. 

It was a normal Friday for the most part. Eren had left about an hour ago, grumpier than usual. They weren’t best buds but they usually exchanged some shoddy form of pleasantries. He had, however, stomped out the dorm earlier without a word, and Jean hadn’t paid it much mind. Eren could be bipolar, in Jean’s opinion. It wasn’t too out of the ordinary.  
That is, until, a knock came to the door.

He lifted the towel he kept beside his piece to wipe the charcoal from his hands as he eyed his current work. It wasn’t anything just yet. A figure of sorts, mapped out with circles and bench marks, lightly for now. He had no set plans currently. It would evolve naturally and wherever the music took him.  
Before rolling off his bed, Jean took the time to check his phone for any missed messages. He figured maybe Marco or Connie might’ve alerted him that they’d be swinging by. While he did have a missed message, Sasha inviting him to her upcoming birthday celebration, it had nothing to do with whoever had just knocked on his door.

Groaning and not bothering to cut the music down, Jean stood on his feet. Making sure to close is sketchbook for privacy, He briefly wondered if he should be worried about how presentable he probably wasn’t. He shook his hair momentarily, hoping it at least wasn’t flat on one side of his head before going to answer the door.  
When he opened it, he was surprised to find Armin Arlert. 

“Hey.” Armin smiled. It was a pathetic attempt if Jean ever saw one. He’d shrugged one shoulder and one corner of his mouth quirked a tic. And Jean had to pause because,  
ho-shit, did his lip just wobble?

Those big, blue eyes flickered to Jean’s shortly before finding the floor not nearly a second later. 

Jean, unused to the oddly unsettling vibe Armin was sending, scratched his cheek awkwardly. It wasn’t like Armin never stopped by their dorm. He was always following behind Eren anyway, of course they’d hung out here on multiple occasions. They’d never really said it out loud, but Jean was almost one hundred percent sure that Eren and Armin were together. Together, together. And hey, Jean didn’t judge, it wasn’t his problem. But he couldn’t say he wasn’t happy that he’d never walked in on anything he’d need bleach for afterwards. What was strange was that Armin was here when Eren wasn’t. This was new.

“Hey?”

“I, uh, could I come in? I just need to grab some things.”

“D’um, yeah, yeah.” Jean stepped back stupidly, stumbling to allow Armin through. There was a sinking feeling in his gut as he thought of Eren’s previous attitude. He tugged the waist of his joggers higher up his hips, hoping his draws weren’t peeking through.

“Sorry for bothering you,” Armin muttered. 

His voice was quieter than usual and Armin wasn’t a loud guy to begin with. Jean was starting to feel antsy. He suddenly felt like he’d stepped into some shit he really ought to dig himself out of and proceed to meticulously rinse his feet of afterwards.

He watched as Armin wandered to Eren’s side of the room and gathered what Jean hoped were his own belongings and not Eren’s. For a small irrational moment, he feared he’d willingly allowed his roommate to be robbed and then bit back a laugh at the thought of Armin Arlert stealing from anyone, ever.

His chortles soon felt inappropriate as he watched Armin attempt to gather a bunch of things he’d scavenged in his arms. Random objects, from what Jean saw. A few articles of clothes, a few books, even a chord hung from beneath the junk he was grasping, seconds away from dropping it all. He looked absolutely miserable and Jean was someone who minded his business when things didn’t involve him. It was safer that way. But this was sad. And hard to look at.

His fingers twitched once or twice at his sides before he found himself digging through his closet to find something to do about this situation that had fallen in his lap. This situation that Jean, begrudgingly, could admit he might be slowly understanding. If he was right, he’d better start getting prepared to avoid land mines quick because this shit was not something he knew how to deal with. He was grateful for the music he’d left on, helping to fill the loud gap of silence.

Armin was making his way to the door just as Jean found what he was searching for. It’d have to do.

“Armin, wait,” 

He made his way across the room and met Armin at the door. His arms held out what Jean considered to be forgotten garbage he’d never got around to throwing out, unable to find anything else, but feeling as though it would fit this new purpose quite well. 

“Oh!” Armin’s eyes widened as he looked up to meet Jean’s wary ones. And, okay, Jean had to look away because there was a lot of unabashed emotion being directed solely at him and, seriously, it wasn’t that big of a deal. It was just a shoe box. 

When Armin didn’t move, Jean raised an eye brow and placed the box on a near counter. He took Armin’s belongings from his hands and went about placing them in the box for him. Assuming everything was sentimental, he did it as carefully as possible, making sure nothing was crushed or crumpled or tangled.

“You didn’t have to do that, Jean.”

Jean rolled his eyes, glad his back was turned to the shorter male. Once finished, he picked the box up again and turned towards where Armin stood in wait, almost dropping it and all of his hard work at what he saw.

“Ah, shit.”

Armin sniffed, voice unmistakably watery. He was looking at Jean from beneath long, golden lashes. His nose was red and his eyes were wet with unshed tears. This was not safe ground. Not at all. He could not do this. 

A part of him, maybe it was cruel, wanted to shove Armin out the door swiftly and silently, washing his hands of the matter. Another part, a larger part, much to Jean’s chagrin, was making him think thoughts that he did not want to think. Because those eyes made Jean’s heart slam against his chest uncomfortably and suddenly Jean was leading Armin to sit in one of the plastic Walmart chairs he and Eren had shoved up against the wall by their TV, his body moving on its own. 

“Armin,” Jean sighed, not knowing where to begin, “Are you…” his voice trailed pathetically.

Of course Armin wasn’t okay. It was a stupid question. He was holding back waterfalls and Jean was sure he would soon drown unless he figured how to paddle through this quickly. Jean ran a hand through his messy hair uselessly. 

“Sorry to bother you, I know I’m being a pain.”

Armin spoke up after the short moment of silence he used to gather himself. His voice was stronger, surer and when he met Jean’s gaze once more, his eyes were pointedly dry. 

“You aren’t a pain," Jean breathed in wonder at the other’s swift recovery. A lie, partly, but this didn’t seem like the right time to tell the truth. 

He glanced at Armin’s sat figure next to him. He had a blue sweater on and loosely fitted jeans that were cuffed at his ankles above small combat boots. His hair was half up and half down, bangs a bit disheveled and a thick pair of glasses sat on the bridge of his nose. He was a wreck, Jean mused, never having had seen the blonde with the frames before. He hadn't known he needed them. But he didn’t look bad, either. The thought made Jean shift in his seat. He didn’t know what came over him then, but he leaned forward, brows furrowing at his own words, 

“Do you want to talk about it?”  
Honestly, he couldn’t understand it himself. How unlike him.

Armin blinked, another small smile, though less discouraging, flashed across his face. 

“You seriously don’t have to pretend to care, it’s fine. I appreciate it, Jean.”

Jean felt a rush of indignant annoyance at the dismissal. He should have shrugged. This was his escape, Armin had tossed it out to him and he should have latched on to it for dear life and yet he’d felt almost offended at the mere suggestion, at the thought of what he normally considered safe ground.

“I’m not pretending.” Jean stated firmly, fists clenched at his sides, “you’re obviously not OK, if you don’t want to talk about it that’s fine.”  
God, what was wrong with him? 

He was pushing this and he had no obligation to. He was curious, it most definitely involved Eren.  
For the hundredth time another part of himself reminded him that it wasn’t his business.

“I don’t.” Armin admitted, pursing his lips thoughtfully. A dimple appeared briefly, shallowly, before disappearing from his right cheek. Jean hadn’t noticed he’d had them before. He had never paid him much attention, really.

“I’m sure you can guess, anyway.” Amin sighed.

Jean grinned sheepishly, averting his eyes for a moment before shrugging. 

“Yeah, it’s not that hard to figure out.” He relented. A pause. Then, “Coffee?”

Nodding quickly, relief flooding those baby blues and causing Jean’s ribs to tighten hotly in response, Armin stood with Jean. No one had the right to have such eyes. 

“Please.” Armin nodded earnestly, thankfully.

He’d once thought randomly, months ago, as he watched Eren walk Armin out one night, that Armin was eye-catching. Not in a gross way, or anything. He was bright, open. His hair bounced with his step, his eyes were big and expressive. For a week, he’d been a bit of a muse for Jean who’d scribbled gestural drawings of him all over one expanse of scrap paper, mainly his eyes but also his lithe form. Walking, Standing, sitting. He’d thrown it out shortly after, not wanting anyone to come to the wrong conclusions. It was just art, and Jean had an eye for beautiful things.

Jean’s had many a muse over the years, though none really stretched passed a day or two. Even still, he hadn’t thought much of it. Armin was like an extension of Eren, he was just kind of there, it made sense that someone like Armin would catch his eye for a bit. He hadn’t thought much of it then. Maybe he should have, though. Because the cues, fidgets and quirks that had caught Jean’s attention before were what drew him to where he was going now.

When he’d woken up today, he never thought this was who he’d end up with. In fact, Armin would have been last on his list.

Jean usually considered himself a smart guy. He always thought things through. And yet, here he was, holed up by the fire place at the corner of the shop with his roommates troubled boyfriend. If they were even that. From the looks of it they were either done or just about. He could say confidently that he hadn’t thought any of this through at all. 

What that meant? Jean had no idea.

\----

‘I’m a mess,’ Armin Arlert bemoaned as he gazed into his cappuccino solemnly.

How pathetic of him to have involved Eren’s roommate in their, this. How weak. 

From his perch, Armin snuck a glance at the tall brunette who stood at the counter waiting on his own order.  
The gloom that clung around his being was suffocating. He shouldn’t have left his room at all, really. Earlier He reasoned that he should get this part over with so he’d never have to go back there. He’d hoped to gather his belongings quickly while Eren was in class so that he could mope the rest of the day in his own dorm and avoid dwelling about it needing to be done.

He wanted to say he was better than this. For a while he had always known that their relationship wasn’t going anywhere no matter how much his heart insisted otherwise. He knew that logically; his brain was where he should have placed his trust. 

And what right had he to mope? He’d been the one who had done this to them. He had no right to mourn the end of their relationship. He didn’t deserve pity. And yet, here he was, being treated to coffee by Jean Kirstein. An acquaintance at best, who’d felt bad when Armin had been too weak to do one simple task.  
How typical.  
He’d never live this down.

"How can you drink hot drinks indoors?” Jean grumbled, interrupting his moping. He took a stool across from Armin, shaking the ice in whatever sugary concoction he’d ordered. “It burns me up, I’m sweating just looking at you.”

Armin laughed weakly, blowing into his mug before taking a peak at Jean through his bangs.

“I’m cold-hearted,” Armin joked, shrugging his shoulders. “Doesn’t hurt me one bit.”

Jean’s eyebrow ticked up, settling Armin with an amused look.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” Armin sighed dramatically, sipping at the foamy drink and letting the heat caress his insides, warming him like a hug and relaxing his muscles. His teary demeanor had all but vanished momentarily.

It was funny how the tears randomly snuck up on him off and on these past 24 hours. His body was already getting tired of the constant back and forth of feeling okay in one moment and awful in the next. He’d felt he made the right decision, but god did it still hurt.  
Jean hummed, snatching Armin’s attention away from his brooding once more. Armin flushed in embarrassment at his behavior. 

“You look pretty warm to me,” Jean grinned at the red that filled Armin’s cheeks. 

Armin looked away quickly and wondered if he ought to drown himself in the milky espresso. Taking another sip, he concluded it wouldn’t be a bad way to go. It tasted heavenly.

He glanced around the tiny shop. Surprisingly, the school hadn’t just stuck a Starbucks in the study hall like most other universities had these days. Sina University’s Café was homely and sweet. The music that played wasn’t loud, more like background aesthetic. He recognized a few of the songs that had played so far, though they were piano covers. The floors were wooden, and sleek. The counters shone brilliantly and the smell of fresh coffee wafted through the air beneath the sound of pots brewing. The red-headed woman who served them called herself Petra and she was snickering quietly at something from behind the espresso machine. 

It was a really well put together place for a campus shop, Armin thought quietly as he took it all in and tried to settle his nerves. He was sure it was all thanks to the dark-haired, little man who mopped vigorously around the sugar counter.

“Thanks again, Jean,” Armin tried again earnestly, tearing his eyes away from the determined fellow, hoping Jean understood just how grateful he was for whatever this was. “I mean it.”

“Stop thanking me.” Jean bit back. Armin sat back at that, surprised at the directness of it.

“Sorry.”

“And stop apologizing,” Jean frowned, eyes piercing into Armin’s, backing him into a corner he hadn’t been prepared to be put in. “If I didn’t want to I wouldn’t have done it, trust me.” Jean grumbled, looking away.

Armin paused, unsure how to broach the subject. He’d almost apologized once more but bit his tongue hastily. That wasn’t all that gave him pause, however. Jean was looking bashful himself, as if he didn’t want to admit what he was saying. It was all suddenly endearing rather than intimidating.

“And I know you don’t want to talk about it,”

Armin tensed at the sudden change of subject.

“--And ya don’t have to,” Jean added quickly, shaking his head. “I understand that, but just, it’s Eren, right? You guys aren’t doing good, huh?”

Jean’s eyes were smothering and curious as he leveled Armin with them, holding him still to his seat.  


"We’re done.” Armin stated bluntly, surprising himself at how monotone he sounded, how crisp and clear those words were as they cut out from behind his lips.

Jean must’ve felt the same because he pursed his own lips and scratched his cheek, mumbling randomly under his breath about needing to shave.

“OK.” He said simply, nodding understandably.

Armin felt an urge to open up then and it surprised himself. He stopped himself shortly. How much of an idiot could he be to let Eren’s roommate in on something as personal as his feeling towards Eren? How, when Mikasa had begged, in a very Mikasa sort of way, for him to open up just like this yesterday, could he feel able to do it now? From a simple, ‘OK’?

Armin shook his head and ground the heels of his hands into his eyes.

“Hey, quit it.” Jean grunted, locking both of Armin’s small wrists in one of his large hands before pushing them down to the table.

“Why are you here with me, Jean?”

“Jeesh,” he sat back, eye balling Armin exasperatedly.

A bubble of laughter almost burst form Armin’s lips but he choked it back out of surprise. 

“I know,” Armin wailed, fighting a grin and bringing his arms back to himself, “I can’t help how I am.”

“You just need to enjoy yourself, you need a distraction.” Jean paused, taking a sip so large nearly half his drink disappeared. “You know, get your mind off things. And stop drinking depressing drinks.”

“Cappuccinos are all things good in this world.”

“I seriously doubt that.” 

Armin pointedly took a sip from his mug, eyes locking Jean’s playfully. 

“Gross.” 

“At least it’s not diabetes in a cup,” Armin started, about to launch into detailed breakdown of Jean’s own drink, prepared to dismantle the cuteness it appeared to be and show it for the evil, processed, cavity creating monstrosity it was before Jean interrupted him with a laugh.

“You’ve got-“ He lifted a finger to his own face and gestured beneath his nose and above his lip.

“Oop.” Armin crossed his eyes in exertion as he tried see for himself before wiping the foamy mess from his lip with the tip of his tongue.

Jean coughed and then stood abruptly, startling Armin from his savoring. 

“Well, come on, then.” He huffed, tossing his cup in the trash can behind them.

“Where are we going?” Armin’s brows furrowed, not making a move to stand.

“Distraction.” Jean reminded him with a dramatic gesture of hands as though he were a magician before making a beeline for the door.

Armin stumbled to his feet, glancing at his mess before stuffing his hand in his pocket for change for tip to set by his dirty mug and rushed after the taller man. 

“Have a nice day!” Petra chirped.

Armin hadn’t noticed the curly haired man who’d collected the tip so fast that he hadn’t even been out the door yet.

“Get your grubby hands off my tip, Oluo!”

For a moment, and maybe even for the rest of that day, he’d swear he hadn’t thought once more of Eren again.

X


	2. Chapter 2

_‘You didn’t mean that.’_

_-Eren, 2:34pm_

 

 

Armin frowns at this, glancing up instead at the scenery Jean has led them to.

He blinks once, twice at the creek before them. Isolated and private, tucked away over the bridge and beyond the fields that lay behind the school’s library, Jean and he stand before it. The air is cold, bitter and his breath shows because of it.

“I skip rocks,” Jean admits, hands raised, a sheepish grin on his face. “Don’t look at me like that. I know it sounds kind of dumb.”

“No!” Armin moves too quickly, feet sliding against the slick of the bank, rocks rolling in the wake of his disturbance.

“Hey, watch it,” Jean gripes, arms out in case Armin needs a hand as he hops down the stone he was standing on to the slip of bank at Jean’s side.

“Ha, ha,” Armin’s ears pinked, breathless as he adjusts his footing, tucking his phone away, “I didn’t mean it was stupid. I was just—It’s really simple. I thought you were taking me to, well, I don’t know where I thought. It just wasn’t this. It’s kind of intimate. Not that you aren’t someone who would hang out in places like this, it’s just, whenever I’ve seen you you’re with a lot of people and I—uh.”

Jean is looking at him, eyebrow raised teasingly as he allows Armin to ramble on. Armin, upon realizing he is being mocked, snaps his mouth shut.

Jean smiles downwards, his eyes wrinkling at the corners, lashes low. He picks at the handful of rocks in his hold, squinting as he analyzes them. He brings one close to his face and then raises his eyes above it, eyelashes long as he peers up at Armin’s flustered demeanor.

“You’re not all that quiet after all, huh?”

“I’ve never been quiet,” Armin says dryly, honestly, shoving his hands in his pockets.

 Something, most likely a creature that has made this man-made pond it’s home, moves just out in the water. Armin has to wonder what it is, as not much moves around this time of year. It isn’t spring just yet, but nowadays the weather is extremely back-and-forth and he imagines the little critters are confused. The ripples draw his eye. He watches, thoughtful, as the water moves, circles expanding only to fade away into the natural flow of the entire body, like it had never been otherwise.

Jean is tossing a pebble into the air and catching it back in his fist, over and over again. His eyes, however, do not leave Armin’s face. His head is cocked curiously at him. Armin feels, somewhat, like he he’s being picked apart.

“No?” Jean says, finally. “I guess not.”

Ignoring his stare, Armin kicks at the dirt in front of him, unveiling a stone that he feels looks interesting enough. He crouches down, fingers smoothing the dust from its surface and digs his nail in the earth to separate it from its home. The stone, blue and grey and glittering, captivates him. Or at least, he pretends it does so he does not have to respond to Jean’s looks.

“That’s not a good one,” Jean calls from above him.

 “Hm.”

“Here, look.”

Armin watches from his crouch as Jean faces the water once more and adjusts his feet apart, angles his arm just to his side and tosses the flat rock out at the creak. It skips, five, six times and sinks beneath the surface and out of sight.

Jean turns towards him and gestures dramatically, arms spread wide, at the leftover ripples,

“See?”

Armin nods and steps up beside him. He does his best to copy Jean’s stance and hopes his elbow is in the right position, eyes out on the water as he lets the stone fly from his grip.

Jean let’s out a rush of air from his pursed lips, watching it sink to the bottom almost instantly.

“That was awful,” he says.

“Hey, it wasn’t all that bad! It kind of did a thing.”

“Mm, a thing.”

“Yes, a thing.” Armin sniffs.

“Uh huh.” Jean’s already bending down again, searching the ground for whatever he considers to be a ‘good’ rock.

Armin watches how quickly he passes certain shapes, how naturally he skips the next one. This time, it goes for seven. Jean whistles after it and Armin watches with his hand above his eyes, shielding them from the bright, February sun.

“You do this a lot,” Armin comments, going about looking for another rock of his own. He lets his eyes wander to Jean.

The other pauses with his back to Armin. Armin thinks for a moment that he hasn’t heard him. Then Jean says, “It was a thing I did with my Dad.” But his voice is softer now, less playful and more nostalgic.

Fingers going still, Armin tries to express as much sincerity as he feels, eyes soft at the other’s figure, because Jean says ‘did’ and Armin hopes he doesn’t mean what he thinks he means. But Jean isn’t looking at him so he just bites his lip instead.

“I’m so sorry, Jean.”

“Eh?” Jean throws his head over his shoulder, giving Armin a lazy smirk, “What’ve you got to be sorry for? C’mere.”

Armin stands up once more, brushing his hands on his knees, not caring for the dusty brown smudges he leaves behind. Jean, to Armin’s surprise, has moved to stand behind him the second he arrives. His phone might have vibrated once or twice more, but neither mention it. He can’t help but notice how warm the other is. It’s impossible not to what with the sudden lack of space between them. Armin can feel Jean’s chest hovering just at his shoulders, strong and wide and if someone told him it was the middle of July then, he would not have argued because he’s suddenly hot all over. Out of his sorts over the proximity, Armin just about jumps when Jean’s hand rests against his elbow, angles it lower and then runs his thumb over his wrist.

“This is where it’s all at,” he says, voice a murmur now. “You’re using your arm more than this. It’s the opposite. And this,” he slides the stone easily, slipping it from his grasp into Armin’s palm, “Has to be as flat as you can find. Now try, like this.” Jean guides Armin’s arm from his hold on his wrist and follows the entire motion through, like a dance, chest pressing against Armin’s back with the force of their throw.

The stone hops out across the water, glinting with the waves before it goes under. Armin breathes out, stumbling to pull away and whips to face Jean who steps back immediately to garner enough space it, foot digging into the dirt at the sudden shift of weight.

“I see!”

“Ha, yeah,” Jean laughs, running a hand through his hair and looking away from Armin out at the water. “S’easy.” He mumbles through a cough.

Armin, excited that he has a better understanding, scours for a rock that fits the bill just the way Jean has shown him. He mimics the other’s movements, wrist flicking in what he hopes to be the way he was taught and watches as it glides atop the water, skipping exactly twice.

“Ah,” Armin smiles, easiest he has in days, “Almost, then.”

He takes a moment to look back over at Jean who has a strange look on his face. Armin can’t be bothered with feeling self-conscious at it. Weak and pathetic as it was, the throw was liberating for reasons he couldn’t understand. Maybe, he thinks, it’s the simplicity of focusing on something so unimportant. The smell of salt and easy wind in his hair makes him light-hearted and careless. It reminds him of his beach from back home and the ocean he’s been enamored with for as long as he can remember.

Jean, seeming to be through with whatever taunts he’s thought up in his head at Armin’s display, gives him a lazy round of applause that makes Armin red.

For a while, they do just this. They go back and forth, finding rocks for each other to use.  Twice, Jean has to demonstrate for Armin again before the other can get more than two skids across the green water.  Any liquid that unfroze throughout the day begins to ice over once more as the sun grows weak. Their breaths become even more noticeable, Armin’s white puffs harsh and apparent when Jean slides on a particularly slick patch of growth and he lets out a loud, obnoxious laugh at him, much to Jean’s chagrin.

When they walk back, pushing their way through the dead brush, snickering at the memory of Jean’s fall and Armin’s pathetic first throw, Armin’s chest feels incredibly light. His cheeks are absolutely frozen, no doubt a ridiculous shade of red, just as Jean’s nose looks under the star lights. Jean holds back a branch for Armin as they make it to the top of the hill, continuing the pathway through the campus grounds. Far less students are around then when they’d come through earlier that day.

“I see what you mean,” Armin speaks up once more as they scuffle through the grass away from the pathway to cut across the lawn towards the dorms. “That was nice. Not thinking, I mean. Focusing on something else. Thanks.”

“Glad to be of service,” Jean claps, rubbing his hands together. Armin can’t tell if it’s to warm them or because Jean doesn’t know how to take gratitude. “You’re free to use my spot whenever you need to. But don’t tell anyone else about it.” He jokes, a spark in his eyes as he looks down at Armin who’s smiling all the way up to his eyes back at him.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” He says, honestly, staring out into the night at the stars between the branches of the trees that they’re passing.  He hears Jean clear his throat.

It really was nice to forget for a while. At the sight of his building looming ahead of them, though, it’s hard not to feel his spirits dampen once more.

“Hey, I said quit it, didn’t I? Do I need to follow you around or something?”

Armin startles from his thoughts at the seriousness of Jean’s tone but is surprised to find his eyes playful in the dark, the whites of them gleaming.

 “I didn’t—“

“Yeah, yeah,” Jean waves a hand, “Put the pout away, already.”

They’re standing at the door to Armin’s building now. Jean’s rocking on his heels, the dyed top of his hair is bright, stark, beneath the lantern above them.

“Thank you, Jean.” Armin says again, hand touching the doorknob but still unable to turn from the man beside him. “It really means a lot.”

“Don’t mention it,” is his gruff response.

He’s looking out across the campus, eyes soft and brown, glittering in the night, reflecting the light bright enough that Armin wonders why the insects aren’t drawn to them instead. Armin watches him quietly, admires him as he stands thoughtfully silent in this thick winter sweater, hair messy and ears warm beneath those silly muffs. He must’ve noticed Armin’s stares because his lips pull down at the corners.

“You think you’ve got everyone fooled,” Armin whispers teasingly and watches in amusement as Jean twists his face up at his words. He elbows him with a small, sly grin to force him to meet his eyes once more. Jean loves to appear either nonchalant or annoyed about anyone and everything it seems. But today, Armin has seen Jean for the big softie he really is. It must be hard to keep up an act like that, he realizes as Jean throws him a confused look, when you know you’ve been caught red-handed.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure.”

At Armin’s sarcasm, Jean turns away, marching back down the steps to make his way towards his own dorm in the next building over. He turns his head to yell over his shoulder.

“Go to bed, Armin!”

And really, at this point the front is useless. He’s already walked Armin to his dorm and everything, There’s no saving face from this.

Armin laughs as he watches the grumpy way in which Jean huddles in on himself, shoulders high, head low. He removes one hand from his coat, raising it in the air as a goodbye. Armin does the same even though he knows he can’t be seen and snatches his hand back down, stupidly.

He breathes deeply in and out once more, watching the air dance around him, listening to the dead silence of winter, or what’s left of it, and the crunch of Jean’s fading steps as he moves through the frost covered grass. As he treks inside, greeting the RA, a blonde and brown-eyed Thomas Wagner, he feels his phone vibrate from his back pocket.

Like a rubber band, he snaps back and the recoil is unforgiving.

Afraid he may not make it to his room without having some sort of break, cracks already forming in his recently found calm, Armin climbs the stairs to his room before he so much as looks at the message.

Each step is torturous. The closer he gets to his room, the less of an excuse he had to ignore the alert all together. The anxiety builds and builds. The steps, he feels, get shorter and shorter. His stomach rolls with dread, nauseous. His thoughts morph too quickly, too fast for his body to physically keep up, eyes filling with tears once more.

He’s useless.

His quiet, introverted, roommate Bertholdt (bless him.), at least would not ask questions about his current state.

It would be a long night, for sure.

The minute he opens the door, he unlocks his phone.

_‘I’m so so sorry please armin’_

_-Eren 3:12pm_

_‘You knew I was like this’_

_-Eren 3:13pm_

_‘Why aren’t you answering me?’_

_-Eren 5:22pm_

_‘Armin’_

_-Eren 6:59pm, Just now._

Armin wants to puke.

 

* * *

 

. . .

 

Jean drops his keys into the dish on the side table they have besides the entrance, just beneath the coat rack. He listens to the music he’d left on and realizes that it isn’t actually the music he left on. In fact, his CD had been taken out and the Radio is what’s currently blaring. Rap is assaulting his ears. He looks up immediately in confusion and finds the source of the change in the center of their room.

The two people he keeps closest on this huge campus, Connie and Marco, are sat in front of the TV. Eren is strewn across his bed, pillow atop his face. There’s snacks and beer on the counters and it takes Jean a minute or two to understand just what was going on.

“Where’ve you been?” Marco asks curiously, eying Jean from across the room.

“Yeah.” Connie says. He’s reaching into a bag of chips, digging through them messily. Jean sighs at him.

“Aren’t those mine?” he asks, already knowing the answer.

“What yours and all that.” Eren muffles from behind them.

Of course, Eren would say that. He never contributes to the snack cabinet. To be fair, neither does Jean. His mother is a Savior, a Goddess, for that one thing, at least.

It was Friday. On Friday nights Jean and the others usually meet up at one of their dorms for the sole purpose of gaming. He’d forgotten completely having been distracted by Armin all day. He feels out of place, standing there with the grime from the river on the backs of his hands, dirt under his finger nails.

“I was out.” He says, moving to snatch a wipe from his bed shelf, avoiding Eren’s dangling leg as he does so.

“But you don’t have other friends.” Connie was saying through obnoxious munching. Jean snorts at the blatant lie.

Marco stands, plugging in the system that they must’ve decided they would play on first. Jean feels a little bad that they’ve been waiting for him to start. It was the only reason he didn’t chuck the entire container of wipes at Connie’s head. Eren, on the other hand, is still hidden under his pillow, an atmosphere of doom and gloom cast over him. Jean stares at him a harder than the others before snapping his gaze to Marco at the sound of his voice.

“By yourself?” Marco questions, though he isn’t all that concerned with the conversation, focused more on the mess of wires that is Connie’s Plays station. He checks the battery levels of each controller methodically, meticulously. Always, Marco oversees the set up. When he gets no response, his eyes flick up to meet Jean’s. Jean realizes he’s been watching him distractedly.

“No,” Jean allows, sitting on his bed, eyes now trained back and pointedly on Eren’s moping form. “I was with Armin.”

There it is, he sees it.

Eren has perked up at the mention of the blonde, hands tensing on that poor pillow.

 There was no reason to lie, Jean feels. No reason to feel guilty and if Jean were honest, he’s still a little curious about it all. Now, as he watches Eren’s hands clench silently, seemingly trying his hardest not to react, Jean wants only to feed the fire, if only to dissect the ashes.

“He was really upset.” Jean edges on, eyes unmoving. Connie is shaking his head frantically. Jean ignores him.

Eren’s fingers pause for a moment and then he’s removing the pillow from his face, green eyes meeting Jean’s imploring ones from across the room.

“Do you have something to say to me?” Eren asks, face stone, unreadable.

Jean wonders about this too. Does he have something to say to Eren? Armin had been here, with Jean, a few hours ago. His nose had been red, he had looked at Jean with those stupid fat tears of his and his sweater had hung off his shoulder in the most pathetic sort of way. He watched Eren now and how stiff he held himself, how taut he was and he knew Eren was maybe going through the same thing. 

Because of this, the air is suddenly thick with tension, bearing down on the four of them. Connie has stopped eating and is glancing between the two of them like he’s trying to decipher a foreign language. Jean can feel Marco’s stare on the side of his face, questioning his sanity, no doubt.

“Are you deaf?” Eren asks, sitting up when Jean doesn’t immediately respond.

There it is again.

That uncontrollable rage Eren always has lurking just beneath the surface. They hadn’t gotten into any sort of confrontation in a while and Jean realizes, as he glares back at those blazing eyes, that the space between his shoulder blades itches for one.

Eren is itching for one, too. However, for him, It must be his way of dealing with his emotions. He watches everything that swirls behind those green eyes and having that heat directed at him pushes him closer towards wanting to throw gas on that fire. Jean wants to light him up.

But then, that would be giving him what he wants.

 Jean wouldn’t let him have that, use him as a pawn for his own emotional release. Jean could act mature at times. This, he felt, should be one of those times. He glances at Marco and Connie’s wary forms and figures, curiosity be damned for now.

“No.” Jean says, simply. “I don’t have anything to say to you.”

He really, truly, didn’t either. What could he say? He didn’t know the situation. Armin hadn’t said a word of it, Jean had encouraged that he not. And who was he to take sides?

Eren’s brows furrowed and his lips pulled downward at the retreat. It had thrown him off, just the way Jean had expected it too. He really was a predictable thing.

“OK.” Marco says uncomfortably, clapping his hands in Eren’s confused face. His freckled spattered face is stiff and serious, but his eyes are scrunched with concern. His gaze whips between them anxiously. “Everything’s fine then. Right, Jean?”

Jean didn’t realize he had gotten between them, nor did he notice that Connie hovered behind Eren, eyes searching Jean’s for answers.

 Jean had none.

“Right.” Jean agrees blandly, sitting atop his bed with a sigh. He closes his eyes to the stares, willing them away with his mind and urges his unnecessary irritation to cease.

“Eren?” Connie implores.

Jean hears nothing but silence, then. It would be up to Eren to decide whether this went any further than it needed to go. It would be his fault if they continued this little game of theirs, if any sort of altercation broke out. Jean was fine either way, the blame wouldn’t be cast on him now and if Eren decided to play, Jean would get his fight out of it.

Jean instead hears shifting and then a pause.

 “Yeah.” Eren’s voice rings out, unsure as it echoes through the silence. “I guess so.”

 

* * *

* * *

 

 

‘I miss you.’

-Eren. Just now.

 

* * *

* * *

 

 

 

That next morning, Jean found himself up before 10. The others were still out cold, but Jean was wide awake. There’d be bags under his eyes, no doubt. But it didn’t matter, he felt fine. No matter how late he stayed up, he always managed to get up before 12. Eren and Connie weren’t the same. Marco, on the other hand, had no choice as he works weekends at the local theater down town.

Connie had shifted during the night; his foot was kicked up against the foot of Eren’s bed and sticking out from his blanket.

Eren was a silent cocoon of covers huddled to his wall. Jean blinked blearily at his form before his eyes scanned the boy’s less cluttered shelves and dressers. Armin didn’t take a lot of stuff but Jean couldn’t help but think his side of the room looked awfully empty.

Not that Jean had a special someone to fill up his space. His side of the room, however, wasn’t bare. He had figures and sketches of parks and the campus tacked to his wall. His mom, who he loved dearly but could not stand at times, had made sure he had a matching comforter set for his bed. Her home-made baked goods were tied together in a basket with saran wrap and sitting on the shelf at the head of his cot. She’d dropped them off a week ago but he hadn’t even touched them yet. The crisp, decorative foil was still intact, the card with her lovely cursive writing was left unopened. The hearts she’d whisked on the front of the envelope taunted him.

He loved her, but most of the times he couldn’t be bothered.

The morning sun filtered through the blinds on the window that sat between their beds.

Jean picked at the crust in his lashes, blinking away the last of his fogginess from sleep.

Without sitting up, he slapped his arm overhead, searching his shelf for his most recent notepad. At the feel of smooth scratch paper, he slid the book down to him, tossing to his side and rolling over so that he looked down on it.

Carefully, to avoid smudging the coal, he flipped through the book until he found a blank page.  He loved working with charcoal, he loved that it was forgiving. But sometimes, no matter how messy Jean tended to scribble, he preferred to doodle in pen. It was permanent and harsh, but left every mark on the page, helped show where everything started and how it evolved to what it had become.

His hand moved quickly over the paper as he hummed. He hadn’t realized just what he was drawing. It was one of those times where he didn’t think, he just did. Letting it be whatever it wanted to be. Many times, he’d realized, this was where his best work came from.

The lines were smooth and sharp, the angles were dark and unforgiving. The figure he drew breathed a soft elegance, and a flowy motion grew from it.

Subconsciously, he knew exactly what he was doing.

When he was finished, he was only a little surprised.

He’d drawn Armin, similar to how he’d seen him the day before. His hair was up in the same half way from yesterday. Glasses perched on his round button nose, a well-loved book in his hands, his legs crossed. Hair spilled over one shoulder, delicately. No real detail had been given to his face, but it was Armin all the same.

It was silly, really. But Jean’s heart was hammering in his chest.

He closed the book with a nervous urgency, glancing over at Eren’s unconscious form.

Even still, he doesn’t throw this one away.

* * *

 

 

_. . ._

 

“You smoke,” Armin’s voice rung out through the clearing, causing Jean to jump and knock his sketch pad into the dirt. At the other’s presence, he kicks it further into the grime, letting it slide underneath the dusty boulder he sits atop. He removes the cigarette from his lips with two of his fingers, exhaling smoke into the frosty air as he turns his head to see Armin making his way down the rocky path.

He’s in combat boots again, the earth crunching beneath them, and a scarf is wrapped snuggly around his neck, which is for once, free of the hair which is surprisingly tugged up into a knot atop his head. His glasses are gone but his eyes are still red rimmed, for reasons Jean can guess why. The sight of him makes Jean’s mouth dry.

“I smoke.” Jean’s lip twitches as he watches Armin’s eyes, larger now with his hair pulled back, even beneath his bangs, stare pointedly at the cancer-stick in his grasp. But then Armin doesn’t look away. Awkwardly, Jean throws it to his feet and stomps it out. Armin, apparently satisfied at this, starts digging around for stones and Jean just stares.

“I didn’t think you’d actually come back.”

Armin lets out a breathless laugh, air hard to come by as he stands, bent over at the waist and fingers the soft bank until it relinquishes the rock he seems to want most. When he stands straight again, twisting it between his thumb and his index finger, his face is pink and Jean can’t tell if it’s from gravity or because of what he says next.

“I actually went to the Café first,” he admits, and Jean’s eyes widen a little, the whites of them more visible around his hazel orbs. Armin smiles, dimples at him, “Which was kind of dumb because we didn’t make any plans to meet up again, but I figured I check there first.”

Jean pats his knees and stands up, stretching, because he doesn’t know what else to do or what to say in response to that. Instead, he plucks playfully at the little indent in Armin’s right cheek, startling him enough to loosen his grasp and snatches the stone from his skinny fingers.

“Watch how it’s done,” he says, to prevent himself from saying anything else.

                                                                                         

 

 

* * *

* * *

 

 

**_Block_ ** _this contact (Eren)?_

_Yes or No._

_Yes or No._

ü  _Contact **blocked.**_

* * *

* * *

 

 

 

It wasn’t until a long awkward weekend had passed and Monday had come around that Eren and Jean spoke directly to one another once more. Jean had spent that afternoon keeping Marco company as he practiced his Volley serve in the empty Gymnasium, excited for an upcoming game of his and so Jean had returned to his room a little later than usual. Eren was sat on his bed, phone in his hand and a solemn expression on his face when Jean had entered.

“Hey,” Eren called with a weak smile that made Jean nervous.

Jean knew it was an apology, and he found it surprising.  The most surprising part, however, was that it also seemed, what with that desperate look in his eyes, that Eren was asking for help. Jean wasn’t going to bite him for reaching out, not when he knowingly started with him to begin with or when he was looking down as he was already. Besides, this was how they usually solved their differences nowadays. Pretend like it never happened. Jean had no complaints.

“Hey,” Jean mumbled back as he threw his bag filled with heavy, important midterm work that he should probably be working on, to the floor and flopped onto his bed. The rest of the night they played _Smash Brothers_.

It seemed like he needed it.

 

 . . .

 

The next time Jean is at the creak, Armin Arlert is already there. He’s skipping stones and staring out at the water. Not wanting to scare him, Jean makes sure he makes extra noise as he makes his descent into their little ditch. For a while they don’t speak, enjoying the silence as they take turns and Armin’s skipping nearly as far and as long as Jean by now. His blue eyes aren’t so red anymore so Jean feeds his own curiosity. Because Eren is getting grumpier and Jean thinks he knows why.

“Is everything OK now?” He asks, pretending not to watch the other as he takes his next skip. It’s simple enough. Not too prodding or obvious.

Armin pauses mid swing and then lets his arm drop to his side. His hair is loose, so when the next chilly breeze hits, it whips around his face and when he tries to stop it, tucking a bit of it behind his ear, he responds with a soft tone.

“I think so,” he says.

Jean thinks about this later that night when Eren stumbles into their dorm pathetically and completely smashed.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

. . .

 

 

 

Krista Lenz is a cute, quirky little blonde girl who works part-time with Armin at Sina University’s Main Campus library, right in the heart of campus grounds, located on the bottom floor of Enrollment Services. Since she’s been at the position, the destination has become far more popular than Armin remembers it being a year ago. She’s a pretty thing with big eyes like crystals that glimmer when she looks at you. She wears mascara and stockings and eyes roll out of skulls as people ogle, stumbling and fumbling to gather their bearings as she checks them out and then all but fainting when she shows concern for their ailments. Ailments being horny college students with no sort of self-control.

 This, however, is a front. In fact, she bats her eyes and furrows her brows and talks to them in a sweet little voice that sends them head over heels, it’s almost all entirely fake and Armin knows that this isn’t how she truly expresses concern, this is simply how she plays.

When Krista Lenz is truly worried about someone’s well-being and it’s not a farce, her voice is low and warm and her eyes are stern and serious. She doesn’t bat her eyes or raise her voice in that nasally sort of way. Instead, her glossy top lip twitches and she demands, tiny fists clenched, that whoever she’s directing this all at fess up and come to her when in need. Because what’s never a façade and always genuine is her need to help ones in need.

This is why when Reiner Braun saunters up to her desk, no books to even pretend that he’s there for anything else and unabashedly leans up against it to garner her attention, she slams her records book closed a bit rudely and swirls around, pony tail whipping him across the face, at Armin’s entrance.  She fixes him with a deathly look.

“Oof,” Reiner backs away, swiping out his hands and he might have a hair in his eye.

“Armin!” She wails angrily, scooting her chair away from one blonde to another, shooting up from her seat when she reaches the opposite counter and slamming her hands on the desk. Armin, still surprised when she switches so jarringly, jumps back, hair flying from his face at the force of her movements. A cup of pencils spills across the surface top.

“Yes?” He whispers, eyes imploring that she does too.

“You’re here!” She says, ignoring him. And, Armin notes, there’s the lip.

“Well, yeah.”

“Excuse me, ma’am,” Reiner tries again from the other side.

“We’re closed.”

“Krista!” Armin stutters, giving an apologetic smile to Reiner, who huffs, before looking back down at the fiery little woman who has snapped for his attention.

“He’s not checking out,” Krista waves a hand dismissively and behind her Reiner throws his head back in a dramatic display.

“Well, yeah, but—“

“No buts! You know, you have a lot of nerve sending me something like that the other day and then not answering my calls! ‘Hey I’m not coming to work, oh by the way me and Eren broke up.’” She scuffs, grabbing his wrist, ushering him into the back room labeled ‘Staff Only’, slamming the door behind them and pushing Armin down into the seat. She draws a chair up in front of him and plops down as well, gathering his hands once more.

“You sure know how to make a girl worried.” She says, eyes hard.

“Well—“

“Well?”

“—W-well, yeah,” Armin mumbles, twisting his wrists, hoping not to grab her attention. “I broke up with Eren,” he sighs. “And I’m sorry for telling you and not explaining but I was really upset these pasts few days and I didn’t really want to talk, so I didn’t.”

“But you’re OK now?” Krista asks, grip tightening, and Armin has to pull his hands away, throwing them behind his back so that she can’t snatch them up again.

She shrugs her shoulders.

“If I have to kill him, I will.”

Her concern was endearing but it was awfully intense as well.

“I’m…yeah. I’m OK.” He says, truthfully.

Because while he was still upset, and though Eren still tried to contact him up until his block, he felt much better than he had the past few days. After his last break down, Armin found himself at the creak daily and, surprisingly, Jean would show too. At the same time every day, they skipped rocks and talked about random things like how Jean has three little brothers who are driving his mother prematurely grey and Armin has a collection of seashells he has to take with him whenever he travels for good luck.  Somewhere along the line, Armin mentioned off-handedly something about wanting coffee out in the cold while they were skipping stones and after that day Jean arrived at the same time, though now with two specialty drinks from Sina Café. Petra’s familiar signature smiles were whisked on the lids of Armin’s Cappuccino and Jean’s, who’s fingers were always numb to the bone afterward, Caramel iced latte. Each trip left his thoughts clearer and clearer and Eren’s actions, words and messages felt further and further away. He mourns their friendship, but he feels more irritation towards the man than anything nowadays.

Armin smiles, a sweet quirk of his lips as he thinks of Jean and his cool fingers when he hands him his drink, his red nose and his smirk of a smile when he makes a dumb a joke.

“Good,” Krista says, “Because you’ll never believe this.”

And before Armin can brace himself for whatever she’s going on about now, Krista rolls her chair from him to the far corner of the room. Exasperated, he wonders why she insists on rolling around when she has legs that move quicker.

On the table where the microwave and the paper cups filled with plastic spoons usually sit alone is a huge, bright, ridiculous bouquet of flowers that Armin has somehow missed and his mouth is wide open in disbelief.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“It’s all for you baby,” Krista squeals, rolling back over with the flowers in her lap. Armin can’t see her face, but he can tell she’s excited.

“Who in the world--?” Armin wonders audibly, fingers brushing at the envelope that’s sticking out the top, right beside a tulip, the scent makes his stomach turn. He already knows. His own name is written in a lovely hand of cursive on the front.

“Open it,” Krista grins, poking her head through the flowers.

“I’m, I am,” He stutters, fumbling with paper in his hands. He rips it open, tears the top right off and pulls out a crisp white letter.

_‘I’m sorry, you deserve so much better’_

“How romantic,” Krista sighs, “Eren must really regret what he did, huh?”

“I guess so,” Armin squints at the foreign hand writing. It’s pretty, and he laughs at the fact that Eren couldn’t even be bothered to write the note himself at the very least. “It doesn’t matter.”

“What did he do anyway?” Krista asks suspiciously, leaning forward to rest her chin in her palm. “He’s sending you flowers and begging for forgiveness and you look like it means shit all.”

“It’s nothing. And it does mean shit all,” Armin agrees. “If I’m honest, I want to burn them.” Really, he’s joking, but people have told him that his jokes aren’t very funny. Krista seems to think the same.

“Oh, jeez, Armin, whoa.” She’s saying. It’s a bit funny coming from the girl who’d just threatened to maim the guy. Armin doesn’t sweat it, he’s glad that it distracts her from her original question.

“Was that too much? I’m sorry.”

“You’re ridiculous,” she giggles, patting his pink cheek and waving off his embarrassed expression. Armin thinks she’s got it backwards.

“Whatever he did to you, Armin, he probably deserves it. Burn away.”

She hasn't forgotten after all, but she's understanding enough to let it slide and Armin loves her for it. He laughs with her at the thought of him setting the bouquet to flames, in an admittedly petty act, and the commotion it would cause amongst passing students. Depending on the political climate of the day it’d turn into a bonfire for world peace or a riot fest that somehow morphs into demands for their current president to step down, the latter being most likely. They go about the rest of their day doing the work that is expected of them.

Reiner is unamused and bitter until Krista is showering him with attention once more.

The flowers sit in the back room for the rest of the week. Nobody bothers to water them. Saturday, when they’re forgotten and brown and smell like earth, but in the bad way, Armin takes them out back and dumps them.  After he locks up early for the weekend, he pulls out his phone and texts the person he feels actually deserves his attention.

. . .

 

 

Just before five, Jean Kirstein receives a text he hadn’t known he’d been waiting for.  He was currently smashing Eren in a therapeutic session of _Mario Kart_ , his textbook open and forgotten on his bed, when the little device vibrates in his back pocket.

_‘coffee?’ 4:55pm. Armin._

On the screen, he swerves off the road and Eren hollers in glee as he moves to first place but Jean’s eyes are glued to his phone with a stupid smile on his face.

His answer comes easy for him. He recalls the conversation he and Armin had that day Jean had wanted nothing but to put a smile back on his face. Back before he knew that it was less about Art and more about the feeling he got from being around the other.

“Pay attention, I’m killing you.” Eren’s saying.

He ignores him momentarily in favor of texting Armin with an eager quickness.

 

_‘please.’  3:56pm Me._

 

“Who are you texting?” Eren asks, annoyed now, pausing the game.

He picks up his controller quickly before Eren can manage to come to terms with his response, unpausing and speeding past Eren’s _Luigi_. Eren scrambles for his handset, shouts and curses as he tries to catch up.

 

“No one," Jean says.

 

 

 . . .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I procrastinated posting this so bad because it's my least favorite chapter but like, I guess I figured I ought to just get it out of the way.  
> Also, apologies for all the people who read my shitty stories immediately after I post because boi these misspellings and grammar mistakes be out of hand. I never catch them until I re-read it fifty more times.  
> Most importantly, I just want to thank everyone who gave kudos on the first chapter of this monster because I was super nervous about putting any of my work up. You guys were more than generous and I was a little star struck seeing a few of my faves actually took the time to read it as well. Thank you, thank you, thank you!  
> Have a nice day :)


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